Lady of the Sunken
by Spirit of the Morning Flower
Summary: All Lady Camilla Allsbrook had wanted was to live her life at her father's country estate, married and comfortable. When aberrant circumstances send her to the Caribbean, she will meet a captain of the Royal Navy, fall in love, partake in unexpected adventures, and realize that she was born to do so much more than marry. Story takes place Pre-CotBP to Post-AWE.
1. Prologue

**Hello fellow fan fiction readers! This is my rewrite of an unfinished Norrington/OC fic, _A Changing of The Tides,_ that I had up on this site in 2012, but deleted it because I wasn't quite sure what I was doing with my story. Now, however, I have a plan. I don't want to keep you for too long reading my author's note, so let me finish by reminding all of you lovelies to please review and maybe even fav, so I can have an idea of what you guys think. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean Franchise. I am just writing this for my own pleasure and not for profit.**

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It had been two weeks, two insufferable weeks at sea. She had no idea that she was with child when she agreed to visit her sister in Jamestown. Only when she was a month into her stay did her symptoms and the midwife's examination confirm that she would be having a child in seven months. The choppiness of the Atlantic did nothing but worsen her nausea and general discomfort. Luckily for Agatha Allsbrook, Countess of Yateley, the tumultuous sea had calmed for the night. She lay in her bed next to her husband, whose breathing was in rhythm with the gentle rocking of the ship.

Emmett Allsbrook, Earl of Yateley, was a gentle, devote husband. Despite what was considered proper by many, he always insisted that he share a bed with his wife. For that, Agatha could not complain. Although she had not been in love with Lord Yateley when she had accepted his proposal— how could she when she had only met the twenty-year-old bachelor twice at her father's estate? — after a few months of their engagement, his wit, scintillating blue eyes, and gentleness persuaded her heart to open to his onslaught of affection and adoration. Their marriage only strengthened the love that had begun to grow between them.

Despite Emmett having conquered her heart in the past two years, nothing but irritation filled Agatha's mind, as her husband held her close. Although her morning sickness had quieted, the heat of the humid cabin was causing her to perspire a bit too much, making the usually comforting presence of her husband's form a nuisance. She could only imagine how cooler the air was above deck. She longed for the gentle breeze and salty scent, even if it meant being only a few meters and railing away from possible death. Still, if Agatha could pluck up the courage to go above, her husband would be furious to find her gone if he would awaken. Dear Emmett did not trust sailors to keep their hands off of the beauty that was his. As she squirmed in her nightgown, damp and warm, the thought of fresh air was starting to outweigh any trepidation she might have of going above decks. At that moment, Emmett emitted a hot, moist, sneeze on the nap of Agatha's neck. The thought of fresh air was _definitely_ outweighing her trepidation.

 _If I manage to at least rise from bed without waking him, perhaps I may allow myself to go above_ , thought Agatha, shifting slightly away from her husband's form, and loosening his grip on her. She slowly rose from bed, being carful not to disturb Emmett. Agatha was about to grab her dressing robe but thought better of it, as she would be able to cool down faster without the extra garment. She tiptoed over to the door and opened it, silently cursing the squeak the rusty hinges made. She glanced over at her husband to make sure he was still deeply asleep. Emmett only stirred to sigh, "Aggie," and nuzzle his face into where her head had been moments before. Satisfied, Agatha carefully closed the door and quickly made her journey up to the main deck. Only after inhaling a deep breath of briny air, did Agatha check around to see who was on watch. To her relief there was only a midshipman in the crow's nest and a sailor at the helm engrossed in a conversation with a lieutenant, all of which did not notice her presence.

She gazed up at the sky through the sails that seemed to glow next to the dark blue of the night. There were quite a few stars visible. Agatha sighed in amazement at how she could follow them down to the horizon where they disappeared under the black surface of the sea. Only the light of the full moon surpassed their beauty. The way the moonbeams rippled on the ocean like a stain on a dress was mesmerizing. Agatha couldn't help but step a few feet closer to the railings, her hazel eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. Suddenly, Agatha stared down at her feet, realizing her toes were threatening to touch the side of the boat. She had never been this close to the edge.

It was not that Agatha despised water, but it was that she feared it. After her mother died of a fever when she was only a small child, Agatha had taken to walking along the deeper part of the river that ran in back of her home. It was on that stretch of the bank that her mother would often sit on a blanket and play with her and her sister. Walking along that path was one of the few ways Young Agatha could still feel close to her. She was not quiet sure why she had stopped to gaze down at the river, but there she had stood, her mind transfixed on the water. Then she lost her balance and fell in. Unable to swim, she was lucky that her father was watching her and had plucked her out of the river before she could drown.

Her father had raised her and her sister the best any single father could raise two girls. She had been devastated when he had died shortly after her marriage to Emmett. Luckily for Agatha, her husband was no stranger to the death of loved ones. His older brother had broke his neck at the age of fourteen in a riding accident and his parents both died in a ship wreckage, leaving him, at the age of twenty, the 3rd Earl of Yateley and the sole heir of the Allsbrook fortune. Thus when his young bride was in her most desperate hour of bereavement, he was the most empathetic.

Reflecting on the past years had made Agatha quite wistful. Tears had started to stream down her face. She blinked clearing her vision, not remembering what she had been doing for the past few minutes. _The moon, I was looking at the moon_. And so Agatha continued to gaze at the moon, soothed by the soft white light. Somehow instead of sparking her nerves, the crash of the waves and the gentle breeze running through her auburn locks had started to sooth her. She closed her eyes. Everything was peaceful. At least everything was peaceful until the woman spoke to her.

"It seems that my domain can seduce even the most fearful soul to bow in her favor." Agatha's eyes shot open, and in shock, she toppled forward, bracing her hands on the railing so she would not fall over and be consumed by the waves. There was no other woman on board beside her maid O'Hare, and the foreign, commanding, voice was certainly not O'Hare's.

 _Am I going mad?_ thought Agatha, looking around at the crewmen who did not seem to entertain the voice that spoke. There were few things that Lady Agatha Allsbrook could be sure of at the age of nineteen, but she was quite sure that perfectly sane people did not hear distinct, unanchored voices that nobody else could.

The woman chuckled as if expecting Agatha to react in the fashion she had. "Be at ease child. You're mind is well. Relax and listen to what I have to say." Agatha's tensed body loosened at the woman's command. She unconsciously drew her hands away from the railing, letting one hand fall to the small swell of her unborn child, her fingers drawing slow circles on the layer of cotton. Her eyes lulled closed once more.

"Your daughter will grow into a beautiful woman. Exceptionally beautiful, her grace and elegance could only be surpassed by the Goddess Aphrodite. She will be one with the sea and heavens. Not a single mortal creature will be able to harm her, and the greatest evil in the sea will bow to her power. As a product of love, hers will be the force that dissolve's a most dreadful prison forged out of wrath. She will be death's mistress." Agatha's eyes snapped open, gleaming an unnatural, bright gold. Her mouth was agape as if gasping for air.

"There maiden, my gift has been imparted. Your daughter will do great deeds and be protected. Now go back and lay with your lover. There is only so much time," said the woman, releasing Agatha from her spell.

Agatha's eyes cleared. She blinked slowly, not remembering why she was out of bed and not quite sure what had just happened to her. She wandered back to her cabin confused. Once she was safe in bed, she was content to press her body against Emmett's warmth. With her head nestled into his muscular chest, Agatha fell into a deep sleep, only regaining consciousness when her husband's lonely lips met hers in the morning. The events from the night before were only remembered as a whimsical dream.


	2. A Monster and A Suitor

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she melted to her knees. She crumpled forward and laid on her front, sobbing desperately. It was not because she did not know where she was— in fact, her surroundings felt oddly familiar _—_ nor was it because of the immense amount of fear that coursed through her veins. No. She could finally feel why she was choking on the salt of her tears: grief. It was an immense amount of grief that was shattering her very soul. She did not know why she was feeling that emotion in particular, but she knew now that grief was the cause of her sobs and shrieks.

She could feel the men crowding in back of her. She knew whom they were waiting for. She could feel him approaching. She always felt his approach. It came over her like a cold drizzle of water down her spine, the rivulet insidiously firing each nerve. Then he was there behind her.

"Camilla Allsbrook," he drawled in the strong accent of a Scotsman, punctuating the last syllable of her surname with a popping noise of the lips. She jerked her head to look at him. His gruesome appearance never surprised her. No, the horrifying blend of squid and man that made his face seem like it could have bled off the pages of a Grecian myth were not what elicited the gasp that parted her lips. What shook her was the intense hatred in his eyes when they locked with hers. She snapped her head back to the ground, her sobs coming in short gusts. Then the short gusts stopped all together, and despite all her effort, her torso would not go through the motions of breath. A sickening ache started to spread throughout her stomach, like smoke from a fire intruding one's nostrils, throat, and lungs. And then Lady Camilla Allsbrook shot up in bed, panting, covered in cold sweat.

Camilla pulled her fur blanket over her shoulders. This night the dream had evolved a step further. Never before had her dream-self's emotions been so poignant, and never before had her dream-self felt the emotion of grief. Camilla shivered, and pulled the fur blanket tighter to her skin. She reclined back onto her pillows, shifting her legs out from under their shroud of silk and eiderdown and into a bent position.

"So it didn't work even at the highest dose," Camilla whispered. She had taken the floral draught that her family's physician, Dr. Rossworth, had given her for sleep disturbances, promising it would stop her nightmares. She never had any trouble with sleep until spring of the previous year after she turned seventeen. That was when she had first had the dream. At first she thought it was just a simple nightmare, but as each night past from her seventeenth birthday, the dream lengthened and became more vivid to the point where she did not want to engage it any further. That is when she finally consulted Dr. Rossworth.

She wasn't even sure how her mind came up with the man in her dream. She had never heard of such a monstrous man in any tale she knew, nor did she want to hear a story of such an evil being. Camilla gently shook her head. _I need to stop thinking about this._ She looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was three o'clock, just as she had guessed. Her eyes shifted their gaze upwards and out the open doors of her balcony. Camilla was already beginning to be soothed by the glow of the early morning moon. Camilla rose from her bed, and drifted over to her balcony and opened the paneled glass doors. She inhaled deep slow breathes of the sea air that wafted from the bottom of the cliffs that her father's estate, Rockscliffe had been named for. A slight smile graced her lips as she watched the dark waves, strong and loud, that where only a quarter mile away from where she stood.

As far back as Camilla could remember, she had always been drawn to the sea. One of her favorite childhood memories was of when her father had shown her the hidden passage from the house that lead to a cave that opened to a small stretch of rocky beach. Her father allowed her to take off her shoes and stockings and wade in the incoming tide. Unlike her mother, she always felt safe when close to the water. The heady saline scent and the hypnotic sound of the waves made her feel like she transcended her body, Rockscliffe, and everyplace she had ever been.

Camilla's eyelids were starting to droop as she stood leaning on the railing of the balcony. Sleep was tugging at her like the breeze running through her thick cascades of curls. She took one last loving look at the sea before she turned around and went to her bed. As swiftly as a wave can wash a single shell away from sight Camilla was cast off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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"Now my darling, we will be having a very important guest visit us tomorrow," stated Emmett from across the breakfast table, folding a letter that he had finished reading.

Camilla blinked as she pulled her thoughts away from her nightmare. It had been the first thing on her mind since her maid had come in to rouse her. "And who might this guest be?" questioned Camilla, as she quickly added two lumps of sugar to her tea and a drop of milk, hoping her father hadn't noticed her slight stupor. She smiled at her father before taking a dainty sip.

Emmett waited for her to set down her tea before replying, "Your cousin Joshua Allsbrook. He is coming to stay here for a while and learn about the running of Rockscliffe. After all, he will inherit it, as well as my title."

Camilla rolled her eyes. "You mean the complete stranger that would have never ever thought himself an Earl if I was blessed with a brother?"

Emmett chuckled, " Come now, Camilla. I know you are quite tired, but please do not be bitter. He may be a stranger, but I'm sure after you have met him you will surely find him most agreeable. Your mother and I both think he is a fine man. He has been very anxious to meet you."

 _I'm sure he has_ , mused Camilla irritably as she took another sip of her tea. Ever since she came out many eligible noblemen had always desired to be acquainted with her. She suspected it was due to her sizable dowry, although most would say it was due to her breathtaking beauty. Despite this, none of her admirers had given her an offer of marriage, a very vexing notion to a young woman who had been told she would surely be snatched up after her presentation. Camilla scoffed, "Perhaps I will, but I doubt he is more fine than any other gentleman that I know of."

Emmett rose from his chair, and sighed, "Very well, my darling. Just please keep an open mind." He began to leave the breakfast room, but then turned to his daughter who now sat with her brow furrowed. "Oh, and I almost forgot. We have received quite a few letters from our friends in the Caribbean. They are in the study if you would like to read them."

"Now that I shall do immediately," replied Camilla as she stood from her chair. It had been quite sometime since she heard from her closest friend, Elizabeth. Camilla gave her father a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before heading to the study. _Perhaps Elizabeth may know some tale of a man with a face of tentacles,_ thought Camilla with a grimace. _Or how to ward off an unwanted suitor._


	3. A Frost-bitten Future

**Author's Note : So, I finally have the time and energy to write again! Yay! I know it has been way too long since my last update, but my life always seems to be chaotic, but despite my misfortunes, I now have the drive to work on this project again, so I should have another update up soon. Enjoy!**

 **Also, I'm recovering from three separate head injuries (loft beds are mean), so there may be more typos/grammatical errors than usual. Okay, now go read this chapter, and let me know what you think!**

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Lady Camilla once again shot up in bed, covered in cold sweat. _Same dream, and another dreary day_ , she thought to herself bitterly. She started to doze back off into the realm of sleep, slowly, and surely…

"Camilla, dear! It's time for you to wake up!" ordered Agatha. Camilla groaned at the sound of her mother's voice. All too soon, Agatha, and Camilla's two maids strutted right through the heavy oak doors of her sleeping chamber. Camilla rolled her eyes as Molly, the scullery maid, nervously tended to the fire. Camilla buried her ashen, sleep-deprived face into her pillows. That was one thing she hated— having to see her scullery maid. It was improper but necessary due to her sleep disturbances. Also, it was just common sense to have a fire to warm her skin and bones.

Yes, that is what Lady Camilla is becoming, skin and bones. The stress of what felt like a thousand and one poor night's sleep was eating away at her usually healthy feminine curves and full, high cheekbones, leaving Camilla looking gaunt and unattractive. Her dresses all had to be taken in, and even some of the smallest corsets were far too big for her.

"Camilla, get out of bed at once! You are far too spoiled by that man!" commanded Agatha. She then quickly ripped the duvet off of her daughter's skeletal form, almost causing Camilla to go rolling off the bed and onto the floor, probably the effect that the Countess of Yateley wanted.

"That man meaning your husband?" spat Camilla, as she rose into a sitting position. She hated what her mother had become, and she hated even more that her mother's attitude was rubbing off on her.

"Oh please, Camilla Marissa Agatha Richards Allsbrook, must we start each morning with the same dramatics?" sighed Agatha, frustrated with her only child, her only _female_ child.

Camilla made no response besides stiffly rising from her bed, and walking over to her washbasin. The cool water felt good on her tired, puffy complexion. It was like being baptized all over again, heaven within one hell of a chaotic world. She then proceeded to sit at her vanity. Her lady's maid, Olivia, began to tame her wild honey colored curls, as Camilla powdered her face, and ever so slightly blended a minimal amount of rouge and charcoal onto her features to make herself look less like a corpse. Even though it was a habit of prostitutes, Lady Camilla needed it to remind herself she was among the living, and not with the poor, blessed, and sinful dead.

"So, I hear Master Joshua is quite handsome, if it isn't too bold of me to say," giggled Olivia, her protruding, owl-like eyes creasing in gaiety. Camilla was debating whether she should bite the girl's head off quite literally, or just let her lack of decorum slide once more. Camilla decided the best course of action was to make a murmuring sound in agreement.

"Olivia, can you please just focus on making her ladyship look presentable. This is our last chance, after all!" chided Agatha, ever impatient to marry off the greatest reminder of her failure as Lady of the Land. Camilla took a deep breath. She was starting to get used to her mother's verbal taunts, but now was not the time to be passive.

"Now, must I marry _him_? For god sake! I don't even—Ouch! Olivia you little…Watch what you are doing with those pins!" Camilla gritted her teeth in frustration. Molly couldn't help but giggle at the ridiculous scene before her, as she tidied up the area around the fireplace. Sometimes she felt as if she was only working for nothing more than a bunch of monkeys playing dress-up. But she couldn't complain, for they treated her better than most scullery girls could ever dream of. Such were the complex thoughts of the smallest mouse in the gargantuan house.

"Now Camilla, be sensible my darling… You have wasted all of the twelve courtships that have flown your way. You cannot afford to mess this one up for us, " crooned Agatha.

"You do realize thirteen is unlucky?" quipped Camilla.

"You do realize that unlike you, young lady, I have not a speck of Irish in me?" spat Agatha in response. Camilla was getting ready to shake her own head violently just to make a point to her mother. All of Olivia's hard work would be for naught, as all of the pins that were meant to tame her wild head would go flying out. _I didn't deserve that comment! Yes, Mother, I know you hate Ireland! In fact, the whole country knows that!_

Not soon enough, Olivia was finished with Camilla's thick head of hair. It was now time for her ladyship to be caged into only the finest fashions that society women paraded about in, especially when in London. Once all were dismissed, Camilla stood pensively in front of the fire. She began to wonder what it would be like to be a flame, what it would be like to just burn and be free of the chains that have been weighing her down since birth. She contemplated what it would feel like for her heart to burn instead of die a frosty, frigid death.


	4. Flushed and Flustered

**Author's Note: Here is the next chapter. Please fav, subscribe and review if you like what you read!**

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Camilla idly ate her breakfast, as her father went of on the same old lecture on how lucky they were that they could meet Joshua today, and how great of an earl he would be. Camilla didn't have the heart to spoil her father's good mood, unlike with her mother whose mood was always spoiled.

"Now Camilla, I really do think you will get along quite well with Joshua. Your interests are quite similar, and he did love our property in Ireland when I met him there to discuss the family inheritance…" Camilla could barely stand the ramblings. Joshua this. Joshua that. Of course he would love any part of her father's property. It was a huge step up from anything he knew. Camilla felt she would explode if she sat there any longer.

"Papa, I'm feeling rather stuffy and stiff. I think I could do with some fresh air and exercise. Please excuse me," exclaimed Camilla hurriedly. She did not wait for her father's permission. She was out of the breakfast room before Lord Yateley could comprehend what she said. Lord Yateley would never know that tears streamed down his daughter's cheeks while he finished his breakfast.

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Camilla trudge about the cliffs in her walking shoes, pacing back and forth like a tiger on the prowl. She was starting to believe the reason for her nightmare was due in part to listening to too many sailor's tales as a little girl, and the lack of control over her own life. Joshua was the monster, and her life was at his mercy. Camilla kicked a rock over the edge in frustration

"Why do I have to be sacrificed to a complete stranger just because my parents could not produce a male heir? Why?" She screamed at the crashing waves below, the howling North wind drowning out the sounds of her cries.

She did not care that her hair was becoming disheveled, nor did she care that her complexion was becoming chapped and frozen from the cold winter air. Camilla simply did not give a sixpence that she would not look her best when being placed on her family's sacrificial alter for her Cousin Joshua. _He is practically a peasant anyway._ _He should be thanking his lucky stars that he even gets to stay in the same house as me,_ thought Camilla indignantly.

Yes, Camilla's hair had completely fallen out of the morning's up-do, and was a fiery blaze of gold in the afternoon sun and wind. She looked fierce, afire, unstoppable, and to the majority of the peerage, unwed-able.

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"Camilla of all of the days, why must you choose today to be impossible?" shouted Agatha, enraged at the state of Camilla's waist-length hair as she walked into her room with Olivia, the pile of Camilla's dinner clothes in her arms obscuring the short maid's face.

Camilla's hair was, in lack of a better phrase, a complete mess. Not a single strand was untangled from another strand of burnt gold. It really did look like several small birds decided to make her head of thick and soft curls their home. Camilla secretly delighted in her mother's distress. _She deserves it_ , thought Camilla darkly.

"Young lady, I was thinking of letting Olivia try to help you with this mess, as it would probably be cleaned up faster, but due to your current reign of impetuousness, you need a lesson in humility. Here is the dress you are to wear," Agatha motioned for Olivia to lay the pile of silk and petticoats on Camilla's bed. "Now make yourself presentable on your own. You are such a spoiled child. It would do you good to learn how to take care of yourself," concluded Lady Yateley icily.

Camilla simply bowed her head, as her mother and her maid left. Once she was sure they were out of earshot she burst out laughing. "Do they really think this is a punishment? Ha! Independence is all I've wanted! In fact, I know I can style my hair faster than that clumsy little rat! I'm no doll. I know how to dress myself. They are so ignorant at times… It makes me wonder…" Camilla wiped the tears of mirth that had sprung from her eyes away, and caught her breath. She disrobed out of her day dress, and pranced over to her vanity.

Camilla proceeded to make quick work with her hair, pining it into an even lovelier style than Olivia could ever do. She easily dressed herself, and looked herself up and down in front of her full-length mirror that stood beside her dressing screen. In her dusty blue silk gown with its gold brocade and trim, Camilla looked elegant, imperious. _Cousin Joshua has no idea what is being handed to him_ , thought Camilla smugly, as she smirked confidently at herself in the glass.

She turned this way and that to check her appearance once more. Satisfied with herself, she carefully left her room, and walked down the ladies corridor to the great hall. Echoing up from the first floor, Camilla could hear a new, intelligent, and deep voice that could only belong to her Cousin Joshua. Camilla bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from blushing. Her cheeks were already rosy enough from her walk about the cliffs. Being flushed and flustered was not part of her plan.

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